


White Blank Page

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-22
Updated: 2010-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me now, where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart?". Jack Noir and his Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Blank Page

The first day they meet, Jack doesn't pay much attention. He's still adapting to life outside the cloning chambers. There are dozens of small dime-shaped marks on his carapace where the growth and adjustment tubes used to be, and every time his new clothes brush over them, they itch, and his clothes are always brushing over them. It's nearly impossible to give his full attention to anything but the maddening itch.

The Keen Imputer's voice cuts through Jack's madness when he says, "Noir, Archagent!"

Jack straightens up and glances around. The others are already filtered to their signed places, and the line behind him swells ever on. He's not sure where to go, or what he should be doing. Jack makes eye-contact with the Keen Imputer, but he's already glancing down at his tablet, looking for the next name. So Jack simply picks an exit and heads there, hoping he can figure out where he is before someone else comes looking for him.

He is through the archway and part-way down the hall when someone calls him by name. "Jack Noir."

Jack stops and glances back. He's never seen her, but he knows who she is, the same way he knows how paperwork it takes to process a parking citation (four sheets is there are no other criminal infractions, six if there are, seven if it's a repeat offender) and that there is a city just like this one, but made of gold and filled with white bodies instead of black. It's innate knowledge. The woman calling his name is the Black Queen.

She moves with a speed and grace that is somewhat unsettling. Jack isn't certain how long she's been out of her cloning chamber, but it's been longer than Jack. There's no uneasiness to her legs. Jack nearly stumbled and fell in line when his left leg decided it felt like giving up, and there were plenty of others who almost, or did, do the exact same thing as Jack. But the Queen catches up with him with no troubles. "Jack Noir, you went down the wrong hall."

"I-" He says, and feels sudden embarrassment and anger threaten to consume him. "The Keen Imputer-"

"He wasn't very helpful, was he?" She says, and like that, the rage flows away from her, and right onto the Keen Imputer. The Queen's given him an out and Jack takes it. He's almost grateful, except all he can really feel at the moment is anger. "I'll speak to him once the rush is gone. If you had continued this way, you should have ended up in the barracks, and I would have wasted hours trying to find you among the legions of troops."

"Thank you, your grace," Jack mutters. They turn around and leave the hall. The crowd is larger than before, spilling out here and there, and the Keen Inputer doesn't even notice them crossing the hall behind his back. But the legion of others does. Jack pulls himself as tall and straight as he can, reminding himself that he's walking beside the Queen and that he's an Archagent, and does his best not to pay attention to the way he is still itching.

They cross into one of the identical looking arches and an identical looking hallway. Jack presses his arms to his sides. He glances sideways at the Queen, and at her own uniform. It's a solid black, just like his, but hers is made of something lighter than his. He can tell from the way it slides across her skin instead of bunching. No wonder she doesn't look itchy.

"Is your uniform bothering you?" She asks, and Jack jerks his head straight ahead, a little flustered that he was caught. The Queen coaxes the truth out of him, "Some of the other men have complained. We've caught a few not wearing theirs. That doesn't reflect well on Derse. If there's something wrong with your uniform, and I know of it, perhaps I can fix it."

"It's itchy," He reluctantly confesses. Jack doesn't know what the Queen can do, but he knows what she should do: nothing. She's the Queen. There are better things for her to worry about than uniforms. "But it's nothing I won't get used to."

"And while you 'get used' to it, you won't be able to focus on your paperwork," The Queen nods to herself, "We will get this sorted."

Jack lets himself steal another sideways glance at her. She is... remarkable. He's glad that he's been assigned to work for her. He can already feel the momentary rage dissipating, turning into something that could be best called lingering resentment. If he ever encounters the Keen Imputer again, he'll have something to say, something perhaps best said with the end of a knife. But for now, he's content to hate from a distance.

They continue down the hall in a comfortable quiet.

\--

Jack keeps his desk neat and tidy. Tickets and citations come in, and he demolishes the stacks of paperwork with his trusty pen and an inkwell that always seems in need of refilled. His new uniform is amazingly comfortable, made of the same material that the royalty's clothes are made of. It also gives him a bit of status. Others pass by in the thick woollen suits, and he thinks, I was worth more than that.

He sees the Queen once a week, when she comes to his office to be briefed on the current state of the office's paperwork. Most others in similar departments as his hate the inspections. They say as much when they hold their own meetings, the group making them brave enough to voice their thoughts. She frightens them.

The Queen doesn't frighten Jack. He finds her to be reasonable and willing to listen to his explanations when she can't understand why he's changed the order of things. In four months, he's made the old system of filing paperwork obsolete. He can now file a parking citation with one form, two if it's a criminal offense or a repeat offender.

Jack shows her the stacks of completed paperwork, and the vast difference between paperwork completed in the first month, and in the last. The difference is phenomenal. "Well done, Jack Noir." The Queen smiles at him when she says it, just the faintest curving of her lips. She doesn't gush with praise, but he's learned the value of quality over quantity.

"Thank you, your grace," He replies, and shuts the doors when she leaves, making sure to lock them tightly. It won't do to have anyone unauthorized getting into the citations. "With your permission, I can start work on simplifying the resources acquisition forms. I can cut them down to four pages, easily."

Everyone hates the resources acquisitions forms. They're twenty pages long and take up so much space. Some of the other subagents have started taking orders unofficially to to avoid using them. Jack's yelled at them a few times, but he knows that they'll just keep doing it unless they get a better way.

"Permission granted," The Queen stops as they pass a window, and then walks over to it, looking out onto Derse. Jack follows after a moment, glancing out to see what has caught her eye.

From this height, they can see nearly everything, though the details have been washed away by the distance. People are tiny dark flecks from this height, barely noticeable at the best of times. But they're noticeable today. The army is moving, and the streets have been turned into a black river, millions of men and women marching through the capital on their way to the training grounds. Jack can't see the King from this height, but he knows where to find him, right at the front of the mass.

There's a wistful look on the Queen's face. And then, just as quickly, she dismisses it, turning back to Jack. "I expect to hear some progress by our next meeting."

A week isn't much time. Others would beg for more time, or resign themselves to failure. But Jack sees it as an opportunity to prove his worth. "I'll have a prototype by then."

She nods to Jack, and steps away from the window. He glances once again at the troops, and quickly catches up to the Queen, already composing the next thing to say to her.

\--

His influence expands. The Queen grants him jurisdiction over the royal prison once it becomes clear that Jack could run them quite efficiently. This promotion comes with a new office made up of four Fenestrated Walls. Jack almost forgoes returning home the first day he has the walls, wanting to do nothing more than run them through their paces and see how truly useful they are.

The weekly meetings are no longer necessary, but they hold them anyway. There's always a little work to discuss, but more often than not, the conversation turns to something else. At first, they speak about the news, and other branches of the bureaucracy. As time passes, they stop being so form with one another. Jack stops adding 'your grace' behind every exchange they have. And she teases him sometimes, ribbing him gently about his uniform, and his particular way of doing things. Jack tolerates it, even enjoys it a little, occasionally making faces when she takes a joke a bit too far. He doesn't rib her back, but sometimes he thinks he might be able to get away with it, if he wanted to.

Jack becomes candid with her, admitting his real opinions, and she always returns that subtle smile of hers, and slowly her answers become less diplomatic until he can garner a sense of how she really feels. He learns that she worries about Derse's future. She's concerned that resources aren't being used efficiently, and that they'll run out before the Great War ever begins. She worries about what will happen when the Great War does begin and the casualties mount up. The Queen has had some of the statisticians calculate odds for her. Jack looks over them and feels staggered when he sees the death tolls. The War will easily wipe out half of Derse's population, maybe even more if it goes badly.

There are other things, things she never says but he learns anyway. The King spends all his time with the troops, and the troops spend nine months of the year in the training grounds. All of Derse knows that the King and Queen see one another very rarely. Only Jack knows that she is happiest when he is gone. Each year, his departure sees the emergence of a far more friendly monarch, one who even laughs now and again, hand pressed over her mouth to contain her mirth. And each year, his return brings a colder Queen, one that has little patience for anyone, even him. Her foul moods rub off on him, and when the King's around, Jack finds himself snarling at his minions more than he should.

One night, he's woken by one of the subagents. There's been an emergency. One of the supply trains has derailed, and there's four tons of goods scattered over the ground. Most of them are perishables, and without quick action, they'll lose all of them. Jack dresses himself quickly and barks out orders, getting all available personal down to the site of the crash. He secures the nearest empty storage rooms, and calls in favours to get some temporary cooling units. And only then, when he has the situation mostly under control, does he seek out the Queen.

The Royal Chambers lie near the top of the towers. There are no easy access points, to prevent assassination attempts or any other such attempts. Jack is tired even before he begins the climb, and by the end, his patience has run out completely. The guards at the Royal Chamber bar his entrance, and Jack snarls at them, "I need to wake the Queen, there's been an emergency."

"We cannot let you enter, Archagent Noir." One of the guards says. They are identical looking, and there is no easy way to distinguish them from each other, except by which side of the door hey stand on.

"I don't give a fuck if you can't let me enter," He snaps, and the guard looks shocked to be spoken to like this. Jack doesn't care. "We might have lost four tons of supplies. I need to brief her."

"The orders were quite clear. No one enters or exists while the King and Queen are sleeping." The guard recovers from his shock.

Maybe another man in his situation would have walked off and settled for informing the Queen that her guards had blocked his way. But Jack has a temper, even when he's well rested and not stressed, and he just barges past the guards, shoving them out of his way as he heads for the grand door. His hand is on the knocker when the other guard speaks up, "She's not in there!"

"What?" Jack turns, not entirely sure what he's hearing. "Where the hell is she?"

"You idiot," The first guard hisses at the second, "We'll both be executed for this!"

"If he walks in there, we're all dead," The second guard looks at Jack, "The Queen doesn't sleep there. And if you walk in there, and catch the King and his mistress..." He trails off, not needing to explain. None of them would walk away from this with their heads still on their shoulders if Jack opened that door.

Jack lets go of the knocker. He has never thought much about the King, other than what duty dictated he think. But he had respect for him, and loyalty. Jack Noir knows now that whoever lies on the other side of these doors does not have his respect or his loyalty. "Which room is she in?"

"We can't-" The first guard starts to say, but Jack cuts him off, drawing out his switchblade and popping the blade up. It isn't as large as their axes, but Jack knows how to use it. He's willing to bet that he can kill them before they kill him.

"She's down four levels, in the room right at the end of the silver hall." The other guard explains the way, "We didn't tell you where she was. And we never saw you come up here."

Jack sneers, but heads down the stairs again to find the Queen's chambers, which is about as much of an answer as the guards will get from him. He put his blade away before he reaches the proper floor and hallway, not wanting to alarm her when she answers. Jack knocks at the door a few times, knowing that it will take more than one round of knocking to wake her. By the time the Queen answers, Jack is on his last legs, and it takes all he has not to sway.

She's clearly shocked to see him. "Jack-"

"A supply train turned over." He briefs her, not wasting any words. "I've got a hundred people assigned to cleaning the mess, and I managed to secure storage units 11305-A, 11310-A, B and C, and unit 11115-C. The Draconian Dignitary is coordinating on-site efforts. But we're going to need more people, and I don't have the authority to get them. There's also going to be a supply outage in the Bries Sector and we need to order Clois and Ley to distribute some of their supplies to Bries until we can right the train-"

"Jack!" It's only when her hands grab him that Jack realizes his legs gave up. She catches him before he can hurt himself, and sits him on the floor. The Queen kneels beside him, making sure he's settled against the wall. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm just tired," It's only as she leans closer that he realizes she's wearing nothing but her nightshirt. He can see the swell of her breasts through the thin fabric, and he quickly averts his eyes. "I'm sorry that I woke you, but-"

"Don't apologize. I'm glad you woke me." The Queen gets to her feet. "Wait here. I need a moment to dress, and then we'll resolve this."

"Of course." Jack agrees, and waits until she shut the door to her chambers before letting himself look at something other than the carpet. He feels dizzy, and something else that he refuses to put a name to. Jack closes his eyes, trying to get control of himself.

He wakes hours later, lying on a couch in the Queen's chambers. She's left a note for him on the table with orders that he eat before he returns to his office. Jack feels another hot flush of anger and shame, pointed directly at himself this time. How could he fall asleep when he had a job to do? Had the Queen been forced to carry him in here and place him on her couch? The thought rouses another emotion, one that he forcibly shunts off to the side and refuses to acknowledge.

Jack does as he is commanded and briefly eats before hurrying out of the Royal domicile and down the stairs. He finds the Queen in his Cubical of Vigilance, overseeing the distribution of supplies from the Clois and Ley sectors. She does not ask him how his rest was, but simply turns over control of the operations to Jack, along with a list of what she's done, and leaves him to coordinate the rest.

And that is the moment that Jack Noir falls desperately, hopelessly, in love with his Queen.

\--

The years pass with little notice. Someone steals one of Jack's walls, and he never manages to locate it. The subagents conduct themselves magnificently, and the bureaucracy runs so smoothly that sometimes it seems as if Jack is no longer needed. But then a hiccup comes along that reminds everyone of how essential Jack is to the process.

Their weekly meetings are very rarely about work these days. They leave Jack's office and walk through the halls, sharing news or personal stories, or just exchanging barbs, both of them knowing exactly how far they can push the other. She doesn't have any other friends, only servants. While Jack has never been the most social creature, even he has managed to accumulate a few friends within the Capital. The Queen only has Jack, and Jack finds himself overly pleased by this. He treasures her friendship of course, but more than that, he treasures that she has found him alone worthy of knowing who she really is.

He has his own hobbies outside of work. Jack writes music, and forms a band his friends. They play jazz in one of Derse's clubs at the end of each working week, and they're damn good at it. He mentions this to the Queen now and again, not expecting her to show much of an interest. But she does, in her own way.

"I would love to hear your band play," She says, sitting on Jack's desk. The Queen is the only one he lets sit there. Sometimes, he accidentally brushes his arm against her knees. He thinks about those long sleek legs at night, and how soft they felt against his arm. Today, he's giving her a wide berth since he can't brush into her too often.

"We have a gig tomorrow night at eight," Jack gives her the details, not expecting her to come. She's a Queen. Even if her duties didn't keep her too busy to leave the towers of the palace, her unmistakable visage would. The citizens love her. If she came down to see them, they would crowd around her and the Queen wouldn't be able to go anywhere, at least not until the guards came along and extracted her. "I could talk to the guys. Maybe we could arrange a private performance. "

"That would be lovely," The Queen says, and sets her hand on the desk, beside Jack's. Their fingers brush against one another, and neither of them move their hands. There is a long moment where the silence hangs between them, and a lump forms in Jack's chest.

Then Jack clears his throat and removes his hand, opening a drawer and pulling out a stack of authorized tickets. He's already gone over them once, before she arrived, but he feels the sudden urge to go over them again. "I'll see what I can do."

Jack sends her a ticket the next day. He picks a table on the far side of the room, somewhere she can see without necessarily being seen by all. All day, he feels in knots about it. She won't come. She can't come. But there's a part of him that hopes anyway that maybe she will. All through the day, and even backstage, the knots stay in his stomach. DD tells Jack to loosen up, and CD offers Jack a hug, and only HB doesn't say anything, just putting a hand on Jack's shoulder and giving him a look that says he understands, which is stupid, because there's nothing to understand.

The curtains come up, and he pointedly refuses to look where the Queen would be sitting. Jack does the introductions, and they play an old favorite, 'That Toddlin' Town'. It's only when he's halfway through the first song that he finally sneaks a peek.

The seat is empty.

Jack's playing that night is a bit angrier, a bit sadder, a bit louder than it has any right to be. The band rolls with it, and they tear through the set. His eyes never leave the music sheets in front of him, even though Jack knows it by heart. Droog handles the rest of the chatter, whenever there needs to be any, and Jack just keeps focused on the music.

It isn't until the last song that he looks up again at the crowd. The seat is still empty, the little 'reserved' sign unmoved. Jack feels stupid. What was he thinking? Of course she wouldn't come. He had known that. So why is he so damn disappointed?

The set ends, and Jack gathers his sheet music while the crowd applauded and returns to the business of drinking. Jack will probably join them as soon as he's able. He doesn't feel like being sober at the moment. CD drags his oboe off-stage and Jack follows.

"Well done," The Queen says, and Jack drops his sheet music. She's standing there, just behind the curtain, out of the audience's sight. She's not wearing her crown, and her usual black dress has been replaced with a guard's uniform, clearly poached from someone who was similar in stature to her. The Queen laughs a little, and bends down to help Jack pick up his sheet music.

"You came," He blurts out, and then quickly gets down, helping her pick up the papers. "The table-"

"I'm afraid that my disguise wasn't as clever as I thought it was. The gentleman who runs this place recognized me right away and offered to let me watch from backstage," She passes Jack the paper's she's collected and gets to her feet, looking at the rest of the band. "You were all very wonderful. I rather enjoyed the one song you played, the one that went-" She pauses, and hums a few bars.

"Mack the Knife." DD figures it out before the rest, "Thank you, your Majesty."

CD looks up at the Queen, and his face is rapturous, "You're so pretty."

She doesn't laugh, but he catches that slight smile of hers just before she speaks, "You play your instrument well, Droll."

HB gets his a hand on Jack's back, and not-so-carefully pulls him up, so he's standing with the rest. Jack gets a hold of himself, "We usually go out to eat after we're done playing. There's always room for once more, if you're hungry."

The Queen glances at the curtains, and at the sliver of audience still out there. "That sounds wonderful, but I should return to the palace.

"Does yer grace have a escort?" HB asks, and Jack knows what he's going to suggest even before he can say it. The Queen shakes her head no, and before Jack can say a thing, HB gives him a push forward, "Jack knows the way better than us. He'll get you home. An' if you want to see another gig, you just let us know. We're honored by yer presence."

The Queen just inclines her head, and before Jack can fully process what's going on, HB takes away Jack's music and sends him and the Queen towards the back door. CD waves, and only DD looks disproving, clearly the only other one to grasp that the Queen is not some meritorious proctor that Jack can woo with wild abandon.

The trip back to the towers is a pleasant one, despite the need to keep to the shadows. They visit all the way back, the Queen first complimenting Jack on his band, and then enquiring further into the songs they played. Jack has no problems naming their songs, the set list burnt into his brain, and does his best to explain some of their choices.

By the time they reach her chambers, he's taught her words to Mack the Knife. Her voice is high and clear, and with a little training, it could be really good. It's almost a pity. If she wasn't the Queen, they could have had a singer for their band. If she wasn't the Queen, Jack walking her home would be something more than just a duty.

But she's still the Queen. And when they reach her chambers, Jack doesn't get too close. "Thanks for coming. I wasn't sure if you could, but... I'm glad you did."

"So am I," She smiles, a real smile. The guard uniform doesn't fit her quite right, but she still looks radiant, and his heart just swells. He's so in love with her right now. "Would you like something to eat before you leave? I know I've kept you from your meal."

"No, I'm good. Thank you," Jack says, and realizes that he's being too familiar with her again, and adds, "Your grace."

The smile slides away and her face returns to the same placid expression she shows everyone. It cuts more than it should. "Goodnight Jack Noir."

"Good evening, your grace," Jack says, and watches her step into her room. Even after the door shuts, he refuses to let himself react, walking down the long hall to the central stairs. Then and only then does he let himself react, putting his heads on either side of the nearest wall and smacking his head into it a dozen times.

He slides down the wall, the throbbing in his head the only thing keeping him from flipping the fuck out and starting a fight with someone, anyone. In this moment, he hates everything with a pure, black rage. Jack hates HB for sending him here, and he hates the King for leaving her so alone, and all of Derse, and most of all, he hates the Queen for tempting him with something they both know they can't have.

Jack Noir gets to his feet and looks down the hall where her door is. He knows that she's standing on the other side, and he knows she's waiting for him to knock and return. He knows, because if their situations were exchanged, he'd be doing the same.

The Archagent puts one foot in front of the other, and forces himself down the long staircase.

\--

She doesn't come to their weekly meeting. Jack busies himself doing the same paperwork over and over, pretending that he isn't waiting for her to walk into his office. But the hours passes and she never comes, and he stops pretending to work, his whole chest aching.

The King returns with the troops and Jack watches it alone from his window, the city swelling to capacity. He makes his usual speeches and Jack doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything. The Queen stands beside the King, and Jack looks everywhere but at her. And she never looks at him.

He fills page after page with music. There are words, but only Jack knows them, and when they play, they only ever play the melody. No one comments much on the new tone of the songs, except CD who asks once in a while if they can play something more cheerful. His apartment is overflowing with an endless supply of ink covered pages, and he plays his own piano at all hours of the morning. The neighbors complains once, and only once, and never come back after Jack stabs one of them.

The subagents start to cringe when Jack comes around. No one says anything when he's around, but he knows they're gossiping all the same. It's no coincidence that the Queen suddenly stops coming to weekly meetings with Jack after seven years, and then Jack Noir starts taking out some new unexplained rage on his own underlings.

DD pulls him aside a few months in after a rough day, yanking him off to a corner, "Pull yourself together."

Jack tries to yank his arm out of his friend's hand, but DD's grip is like iron. "Fuck off."

"Listen to me," DD squeezes tighter, shoving Jack against the wall, "Everyone keeps talking about you and the Queen."

"Nothing happened!" Jack says a bit too loud, and DD gives him another shove, a reminder to keep his voice down, "I took her home, and I walked away. Nothing happened-"

"I know nothing happened. If something had happened, you wouldn't be so fucking pissy," DD lets go of Jack's arm, "But it doesn't matter what happened. Everyone's talking, and if they keep talking, the King is going to hear. So unless you've got a deathwish, stop being such a petulant child."

Jack rubs his arm, glaring at DD. He's got a point, but Jack's damned if he'll admit to it. "Mind your own business."

"Stop making me mind yours, and I will," They fall quiet as a scribe walks past, and when once he's gone, DD goes one way. Jack goes the other, arm still sore from DD's grip.

Jack goes back to his desk and takes a seat, looking at the mounting tickets. There are eight weekly security reports sitting in his desk drawer, waiting to be picked up by the Queen. Jack makes up his mind. She wants to ignore him? Fine. But she can give him someone new. He won't let this affect his job. Jack grabs the stack of folders and mounts the stairs to her room, heart pounding in his chest.

He almost doesn't make it. Part of the way up, the King descends the stairs, and every instinct in Jack's body tells him to just run the other way, to throw the reports out the nearest window and spend the rest of his life pretending he's never spoken to the Queen. But instead, he continues to walk, and the King doesn't even notice the archagent, too busy talking to his own escorts.

Jack reaches the Queen's chambers and knocks at the door. The look on her face when she answers the door is one of supreme surprise. It feels good to knock her off balance for once. Jack holds the folders out, like a shield, his voice terse, "Your weekly reports."

He means to add that she should appoint someone to collect them for her, if she won't, but the words get caught in his mouth. She looks awful, and her face is wet with what might be tears.

"Thank you," The Queen sounds hoarse as she takes them. And he tries to think the last time he saw her without her husband, and the last time he saw her smile, and for a moment, he thinks about what it must be like to be trapped in this tower. "Jack-"

Jack doesn't think about it. If he thought about it, he would stop himself. So he just steps in, and leans up on his toes to get anywhere near her face, and kisses her. It's stupid and foolhearty, and he's been thinking about doing this since the day he woke up on the couch in her chambers. She drops the paperwork and grabs hold of him, pulling him in close. They stumble in through the doorway, barely remembering to shut the door, and make their way through the parlor, to the bedroom on the far end.

They undress each other between kisses, struggling out of their outfits until they're both finally bare. She is so beautiful, and Jack finally lets himself touch her after years of only accidental brushes. Her bed is soft, and she is softer, and she splays out across it while Jack presses up against her. They make love at a fevered pitch, as if they will never have another chance. Seven years, all leading up to this, and it's everything he could ever want. Jack watches her fall apart, swallowing every noise she makes, and then gives in as well.

And afterwards, lying in bed with her, he feels content in a way he never has before. He rests his head against her chest and just listens to her breathe, while she rests a hand on his head. They don't need to speak, and they don't, just holding one another.

\--

To everyone else, life appears to be normal. The Queen attends her usual meetings with Jack Noir, and they go about their usual business, mostly discussing work these days. When the soldiers leave the city, they watch them leave together, standing close but not too close. Jack eases up on the subagents, and everyone assumes that Jack and the Queen have made up from their fight.

He makes sure to live a normal life. Jack writes as much music as ever, and maybe it's more cheerful than usual, but as long as no one sees the words, no one really knows what it's about. The band is happy to have Jack back to his usual self, and they play once a week at the club, just like normal. And when a pretty girl flirts with him, Jack always makes sure to flirt back a little. But he never takes them home, and nobody really notices that.

The Queen is as unchanged as ever. She manages the bureaucracy and keeps the population happy and fed, and the population loves her for her efforts. Her expression always carefully placid, no matter the occasion, and her words are so diplomatic that you'd need a knife to cut through them to find the real meaning. She smiles more than usual, but only Jack Noir ever sees that, and she only ever does it when they are alone.

He knows the way to her room well. They are careful to coordinate their efforts, to ensure that no one catches Jack coming and going. And he always bring work with him, just in case they're interrupted and they need an explanation. But they never are, and the paperwork sits forgotten in the parlor while they spend all their time in the bedroom.

She never sleeps easy, even when he sleeps beside her. The crown lies heavy on her head. The war is always just on the horizon. Far above them sleeps the Princess of Derse, and in the other tower, the Prince of Derse, potential time bombs ticking and just waiting to go off. There are millions who will perish once the war begins. But there are even more who will die if Derse's supplies are exhausted before the war starts. Jack has seen the inventory lists. They've got another seven years if they continue to ration the way they already are, but after that? Jack doesn't like to think about what comes after, but he knows the Queen does.

They only talk about the future once, the afternoon after the King's departure. For three months, Jack only sees the Queen at the briefings, or standing beside her husband when he gives speeches. There are rumors about the Queen and her archagent, just like there are always rumors, but they aren't stupid enough to make those rumors true while the King is sleeping four floors above her. Only after they watch him depart do they adjourn to her quarters and make up for three months of forced celibacy.

Jack is pressing kisses to her stomach when she asks, "Could you live through exile?"

He looks up at the Queen, struck by the sudden seriousness of the question. "If I had to, I could. But you won't let them exile me."

Jack expects to see her smile, to hear her make a joke about how she'll have him exiled if he doesn't continue to preform well, but she doesn't. She's so serious when she speaks, "I'm not sure I could. The thought of being powerless... I can't explain it Jack. It terrifies me."

"Hey," He reaches up, cupping her face in his hand, "You don't have to. You're the Queen. You're never going to be powerless."

She presses her hand overtop of his, "Jack... if I can choose exile... " The Queen can't even bring herself to finish the thought. Jack already knows she won't. She may not love her husband, but she loves Derse. She couldn't abandon this place, even if she wanted to. Not even for Jack.

"Don't think about it." He tells her, and returns to distracting her, until she's not thinking about exile anymore. Jack already knows that he's going to die for her, either when they're discovered, or by her side when the War finally comes. Exile simply isn't an option. Their relationship lives and dies here, on Derse.

\--

The first few years are the worst, and once they pass, they fall into a careful rhythm, stealing time whenever they feel safe enough to. Life continues. Jack manages the bureaucracy, keeping it moving as smoothly as a carefully wound clock. The King and his troops mark the passage of the seasons, nine months of bliss, three months alone.

Jack always expected that, when the time came, he and the Queen would be caught in the act. They were so careful. No love notes, no poetry. How else would they be discovered, except through hard proof? So when the guards come and demand Jack follow them to the throne room, he finds himself confused. The King has been back for two months, and he and the Queen have only seen one another in public, during the appropriate times.

They lead him to the throne room, where the Queen and King are already waiting. Jack remains calm despite the tense atmosphere, and does not avoid the Queen's eyes, knowing better than to be suspicious. This might be nothing.

The King approaches Jack. He's so much taller than Jack, and wider too, like a brick wall with arms and legs. "If you confess now, I may be lenient."

Jack meets the King's eyes. "I can't confess if I don't know what I did wrong, your Majesty."

The King regards Jack like he might regard a particularly hard to kill bug. He gestures to one of the guards, who steps forward and hands the King a stack of papers. Jack recognizes his writing in a heartbeat. He tenses up. It's his music, the ones with the lyrics that he's never shown anyone. The King turns them towards Jack, "Is this your music?"

"Yes," Jack still thinks he can see a way through this. They're love songs, but he never names the Queen by name. He's careful, even when it's just for him. "Why do you ask, your Majesty?"

"Why?" The King thumbs through the pages, extracting one in particular and showing it to Jack. It's just another love song, hardly worth commenting on. But there, in the bottom corner, is a doodle of the Queen. It isn't Jack's style. It's CD's. The bottom falls out of his stomach. Maybe he could have talked his way out of this. Maybe, if he was a worse friend, he could throw CD at the King's mercy. Except he knows that the Droll would panic and tell the King everything, and that would be more than enough to get Jack and all of his friends killed for idly standing by and tolerating an affair. The King continues, "Confess. Or I shall have you thrown from the window into the streets below."

Jack squares his shoulders. He can't save his own skin, but he can save hers. There's no proof that this is mutual. "I confess. I coveted the Queen. She never knew," His eyes touch on her for a moment, only a moment, before snapping back to the King's. "But I've wanted her since the first time I saw her."

No one says a word. Everyone is far too well trained to murmur. He's sure the news will be spread later, but he doesn't care. It doesn't matter. Jack was a dead man the moment he stepped into the room.

The King stares down Jack, and then turns to the Queen. "Choose his punishment."

"No," The Queen shakes her head, "I won't."

"Choose," The King strides over to her, taking her hand. They're a matching pair, built to compliment one another, and while they look very fine, everyone in this room knows the truth. She doesn't love him, and he doesn't love her. This is only happening because examples need to be made, and Jack's got the back luck of being a great example to make. "Or I'll choose for you."

She looks at Jack. He knows before she speaks what she's going to choose. "Exile."

"Exile isn't an option," The King stares at her and Jack tries to will her to choose something, anything. She has to choose. If she doesn't, then they'll both die. "The penalty for adultery is death."

"And what of your adultery?" She says, and everyone present holds their breath. Everyone, but the Queen, whose eyes burn as she speaks, "Should we put your mistresses to death? Or you? Or me?"

Jack can't stop the look on his face when she confesses. And the King can't stop his, and the shock that Jack knows must be real. "You... with an Archagent? You are a Queen-"

"Your last mistresses was one of your own soldiers! The rest have been pulled from the ranks of bakers, and the police, and even your own servants. Or did you think I didn't know?" She yanks her hand away, and the next thing seals her fate. But even Jack can see how relieved she is to finally say it, "At least I love him. I doubt you know how to feel anything but lust."

The King stares at her, like he's seeing her for the first time. Then he turns to his guards, and his voice nearly breaks when he speaks. "Take them to the holding cells. And stay there until I send someone to relieve you."

The guards step in, and the Queen defiantly takes Jack's hand. It may be the last time he ever touches her, and he holds on tight, even as the guards shove them out of the throne room.

\--

His prison cell is opposite hers. They sit beside their cell doors and speak to one another through the bars. Meals arrive twice a day, tasteless gruel that they eat only because it's better than starving to death. The guards ignore them, and they ignore the guards.

Jack used to mark the days in his cell. He stopped when he reached the five month mark, and there was no news on what would happen to them. There doesn't seem to be any point in counting anymore.

She still wears her ring, but they took her crown long ago. Jack isn't sure why they haven't taken the ring. Maybe they haven't found anyone to give it to yet. Or maybe they just haven't decided what to do. After all, it's rare that you have to remove your own Queen.

Jack's not sure what Derse knows. He's not even sure if his friends know he's still alive, or if they think he's dead. It's not like there's any way of getting a message to them. The guards are always the same eight guards, and they never speak to Jack or the Queen.

He still loves her. He knows he should hate her, but he can't. Every time he looks at her, all he can think about it how much he still wants her. If she regrets her decision, she never shows it. Instead, she talks, just like they used to when they lay in bed together, or at their weekly meetings. The Queen confesses everything to him, and he returns the favor. After four months, they have no secrets left. It would be terrifying, except there's nothing left to scare him.

At night, they both reach through the bars and put their hands on the floor, as close as they can. The gap is too wide to bridge, but that doesn't stop them from trying.

He's not sure how many months it's been when the King appears. She's still asleep, and Jack doesn't have the heart to wake her. He gets to his feet and stares down the King, daring him to hurry up and kill Jack while she's still sleeping. The King stops in front of Jack's cell, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. They regard one another with mutual loathing.

"You think you're the only one who ever loved her," The King says, and his voice is heavy. "You're wrong. I loved her. I still love her."

"Yeah? Is that why I slept with her for five years without you noticing?" Jack doesn't have his knife, but he's got words, and he sticks them into the King's side instead, making sure to twist them for maximum damage. "Is that why she always came to me when she needed to talk? Because you loved her? I guess if you loved me, I'd want to run into someone else's arms too."

"You think if you make me angry enough, I'll kill you quickly," The King is calm, and Jack mentally curses. He was hoping that. "I have another punishment for you, Archagent."

"What's that? Hot irons? Whips and chains?" Jack can still try. Maybe he'll fail, but it's better than nothing. "I don't think you've got it in you. It took you months to work up the nerve to come down here and face us. How are you going to do anything to us?"

"Jack," Her voice cuts through the conversation like a knife through flesh. They both turned to look at the Queen, standing at her own cell door. She looks straight at him and smiles one of those rare real smiles, "I love you."

He grips the bars, ignoring the King to meet her eyes. Jack's never said this when anybody but her could hear, but what the hell, he's about to die. Might as well make sure she knows he meant it. "Love you too."

It isn't hate in the King's eyes. Instead, there's something cold and almost amused, and something about it cuts through Jack. The King gestures to the guards, and they step forward. But it isn't Jack's cell they unlock. It's the Queen's.

"For the crime of adultery, your title and your life are forfeit." The King speaks as if he's reading off a proclamation. The guards pull her out, and push her onto her knees. The Queen goes easily, not bothering to fight back at all. It's then, and only then, does he realize what's about to happen.

"No!" He slams his hands on the bars. The King draws his sword. The Queen raises her head, and Jack slams his hands again, hard enough to make the bars shake. But not enough to do anything useful as the King swings it. "No!!"

The sword takes her head in one smooth stroke. It hits his cell door and falls to the ground, rolling away. Her body stays kneeling for a few seconds before crumpling. Jack screams, and his rage echoes through the holding cells, bouncing off every surface. It's loud enough to startle the guards and the King. Jack can't even think. All he can see is red, the very red coming out of her neck and covering the floor.

The King points to one of the guards. He kneels down and works the ring off the Queen's finger, putting it into the King's open palm. And the King looks directly at Jack, sword in one hand, ring in the other, and then walks away. Jack screams incoherently at the King, unable to even string together the most basic of thoughts as he walks away. The guards disperse, and Jack is left alone with the body of the Queen.

He can't reach her through the cell door. But her blood reaches him, creeping under the cell door while Jack loses his mind.

\--

One week later, they finally remove her body, and bring Jack out of his prison cell. Jack's hungry and thirsty, barely able to stand on his own two feet, and he's screamed his throat so raw that he can taste blood. But he's still got some fight in him, and he kills one of the guards. The others beat him and drag him up the stairs in chains. It's worth it, even if he has trouble staying conscious.

He expects them to take him to the King's chambers. Instead, they return him to his cubical, making sure to drag him past his subagents. They pass DD, who doesn't approach, but keeps an eye on Jack, and they take him past the empty throne room before finally reaching his cubical. It's untouched, mostly. The guards drop Jack inbetween the screens, his chains clanking as he hits the ground.

Jack spits out a mouthful of blood, and just smiles at the guards. So they're going to kill him here? Fine. He's already dead. Jack Noir died the moment they took the Queen's head.

But instead, one guard activates the Fenestrated Walls, and Jack's surrounded by images of the King. He's giving another speech. It's the usual bullshit. He doesn't know why they're showing him this. Then the guard pans the view over, and Jack's heart stops.

The Queen is standing beside. Except, it's not the Queen. She's dead. Jack watched her die. Her blood is still on his hands and knees. But there's a Queen, looking the very image of the last one.

A clone. Jack hasn't ever worked in the cloning chambers so he doesn't know how long it takes to create a new clone, but now he's got an idea of how long it takes. The new Queen raises a hand, and the crowd cheers. They've got no idea that she's the new Queen. No one does. How can they? She looks the same.

There's a noise coming out of Jack's mouth. It's not very loud, and it's raw and rough, but it's a sound all the same. Something that would be a scream if it could. Jack's screaming, but it sounds so strangled that no one pays attention but him.

The bitch is wearing the ring on her hand, as if it's her ring. As if she hadn't stolen it from the dead. Jack can't breath. He can't even look at the images. His body pitches forward and he hits the floor, and the sound keeps crawling out of his throat, endless bountiful rage. They killed her and replaced her with a discount version, something not fit to even be walking, much less wearing his Queen's robes and ring.

One of the guards hauls him back onto his feet and unchains him. Jack can't even work up the strength to hit him. The guard sets him in his chair, and Jack looks at him, recognizing him. He's one of the guards from the King's room. But he can't tell which one he is.

"The King says this is your punishment. It's better than being offed," He says, as if he has any idea what he's talking about. Jack stares at him, and knows with a crystal clarity, that one of these days, Jack will kill him. Just like he knows he's going to kill everyone. "Keep your head down and do your work."

The guards leave. And Jack sits at his empty desk, staring at the screens, and the imposter smiling to the crowd.

\--

Life carries on.

Jack does his job, but he does it poorly. The tickets form stack and stacks. He draws on them mostly. Jack doesn't file them. He doesn't file anything anymore. Subagents don't bother to turn up in his office. They deal with the paperwork on their own, or they don't deal with it at all.

The supplies are almost gone. Famine won't be too far on the horizon. Jack doesn't give a shit. This planet deserves to die. They all deserve to die. The King. The Bitch. The subagents. The soldiers. Every single last one of them.

Jack doesn't play music anymore. His piano sits untouched. CD asks him once, only once, to play again. DD gets him away from Jack before anything can happen, and explains to CD carefully why he can't ask Jack that anymore. HB puts a hand on Jack's shoulder, trying to be comforting, and Jack hates him. If HB hadn't sent him to escort the Queen home, she wouldn't be dead. And he wouldn't be trapped in his shitty awful job.

The new Queen comes by his desk to retrieve her predecessors reports. The first time she appears, he digs his fingers into the palm of his hands hard enough to break through his carapace, listening to the voice that is identical to hers, but nothing like it at all. She speaks to him as if she has a right to, mocks him for his messy desk, and smiles at him, as if there was something worth smiling about.

Jack hates her. He can barely even think of her as a queen in his head. That term is reserved for someone else. Someone better than a clone. The troops march through the city, and the Bitch watches from his window. Jack stays at his desk, staring at the stacks of tickets and wishing her dead with every thought.

Thirteen years after the birth of Derse, it happens. The War comes.

Everything changes. The usual bureaucracy is shoved aside to make way for the war. Troops are loaded onto shuttles and sent to the battlefield. The low resources are quickly forgotten as Derse is given a reason to cheer and care again, to feel triumphant. The war brings new outfits for everyone, ugly tawdy multicolored things that disgust Jack. He's sent a dress. Jack refuses to wear it.

He sees to the most basic parts of his duty. When the Bitch appears over the Fenestrated Walls, demanding he wear his uniform, he dresses himself, but he doesn't show her respect. He hates her. If his hate was water, it would be an ocean large enough to drown them all. If it was fire, it would burn the whole world. If it was poison, he would kill every last man, woman and child within Derse and Prospit, with an extra large dose for her.

The day passes. A hat is destroyed. A man is released. A package is received. A regisword dispatched. A bunny discovered. Another guardian discovered, and lost before she can be captured. And finally, Jack Noir encounters the Bitch, and the Bitch encounters the bunny.

There is blood all over the floor. It reminds him of her blood, and the cell. A finger twitches. And a ring lays on the ground. Her ring. Jack takes it. He doesn't know if she would approve of this. But then again, it doesn't matter.

The truth is, he hates her too. She made him love her. He can't forgive her for that, any more than he can forgive himself. Because Jack hates himself for giving in, for loving what he knew what forbidden, for getting her killed. He hates, because he can't feel anything else.

Jack slides on the ring and finally lets his madness overtake him.


End file.
